Castrovalva Part One

The one where the new Doctor becomes unravelled from his past (and his scarf)...

It was unheard of for Doctor Who to do a cold open at the time, but the reprise of the regeneration at the top of this episode is a wise move. It edits what went before, but reminds the viewer where we were up to (although anybody who'd been watching The Five Faces of Doctor Who repeat of Logopolis would already be aware). It provides a tantalising jumping-off point for the new era, revealing the Doctor's new face to us before launching into those thrilling, galloping opening titles. A new era has begun!

By rights, Peter Davison should be "my Doctor". I was five years old when Season 19 began, so the Fifth Doctor ought to have been the version I grew up with and got attached to. But I've never been terribly fond of this Doctor. It's not that I dislike him, I just don't think he quite fulfils my search for eccentricity in my Doctors. To me, Davison was more of a bland hero figure, and less like the "crazy" Dr Who I knew. I don't think I actually grew attached to a Doctor until Sylvester McCoy took over, by which time I was 11 years old. Sylvester is "my Doctor", even though I grew up with Davison (and, I suppose, Colin Baker). So, let's see how I feel about Number 5 now I'm in my forties!

It's great that Castrovalva leads directly on from Logopolis, essentially making this not a sequel to Logopolis, but the continuation of one long eight-parter. The fact it's eight parts of Doctor Who written by Christopher H Bidmead leads me to reserve my judgement, however. There's a lot of baggage attached to a change of Doctor, baggage I would like to see addressed by the characters. It was handled rather dismissively by Terrance Dicks in Robot, and astutely by David Whitaker in The Power of the Daleks, but I don't have high hopes for Bidmead's treatment based on his emotionally stunted writing of Logopolis...

The new gang of three young companions (do we really need that many?) try and get the regenerated Doctor back to the TARDIS, and I always find it funny when the Doctor collapses into the brush and takes all of them down with him!

But this is where Bidmead stumbles at the first hurdle, of having the companions react truthfully to the fact the Doctor's just changed his entire face before their eyes. Adric mentions that something might have gone wrong with the Doctor's regeneration, which proves he knows something about the process. I can explain that away by the fact he had a good chinwag with the Watcher in the last story, so maybe it was explained to him then what would happen. Fair enough. So what about Tegan and Nyssa? Why do they readily accept the change, as if this happens every day? Everyone's acting far too reasonably, when in truth, Nyssa, and especially Tegan, should be asking an awful lot of questions while they run back to the TARDIS. Like: "What the flip just happened to his face!? Who's this blond guy?" But instead, they just accept that this is the Doctor, and there's no reason why they should. It could just be a cosplaying intruder for all they know.

On a practical level, these three are good at their jobs. Adric's always been good at creating a distraction, giving Tegan the unique (and frankly quite surprising) opportunity to steal an ambulance to transport the ailing Doctor back to the TARDIS. Director Fiona Cumming is quite crafty in the way she holds the Doctor back a little. You can see it's Peter Davison but you don't get many proper looks at him, it's always from a distance or fleeting glimpses. She's holding back for a proper Doctor shot, leaving the viewers waiting, anticipating.

The materialisation of an ionic column reveals that old chuckle-chops himself, the Master, is still about. Why he thinks his TARDIS is best 'disguised' as a piece of classical architecture which is just as out of place in 20th century England as it is on far-flung Logopolis is a puzzle, but the guy's a fruit-loop, so he can do anything he wants. I'm not so accepting of the awful special effect of the lightning zapping out of his TARDIS though. Even for 1982, that effect stinks!

Once inside the TARDIS, things start to slow down, which unfortunately means Bidmead has to concentrate a bit more on character. Writing for character is not Bidmead's strong point, sadly. "The Doctor's very strange," states Tegan. Yes, plus he's changed his entire face Tegan, what do you make of that?

It's nice that Bidmead makes it Adric that goes after the Doctor, seeing as he is the longest serving companion and the one who knows him best (plus the only one with any realistic understanding of what's going on). He finds the Doctor unpicking his predecessor's scarf, literally unravelling the fabric of Tom Baker with a magnificent lack of subtlety! The Doctor proceeds to tear up his predecessor's waistcoat too (an act of sacrilege, as that is a beautiful garment), and leaves behind a shoe that he never had on when he regenerated (ahem).

Castrovalva was the fourth story to be recorded by Davison, in an effort to give him time to perfect his characterisation so that he could portray the post-regenerative confusion better by the time he got to his "first" story. Of course this has the unfortunate effect of making his Doctor seem less like himself as the season goes on, but let's not focus on that. Here, Davison gives his Doctor a fragility and fearfulness that feels very alien to this incarnation. Yes, the Fifth Doctor could be described as vulnerable, but never fragile, so to see him mentally fracturing here is quite distressing.

Unfortunately, Davison has to do impressions of some of his predecessors, and at this he is not good. His Hartnell is frankly embarrassing, and his Pertwee and Troughton not a lot better. I really wish he hadn't had to do these impressions, because it just makes him look like a bad actor, and slightly desperate. It's rather endearing to have him referring back to old companions like Vicki and Jamie, although the broad spattering of continuity references (Gallifrey, Romana, the Gateway, Alzarius, the Brigadier, Ice Warriors, Logopolis, and bloody block transfer computation) makes it all too self-conscious.

"This regeneration isn't going to be as smooth as on other occasions," warns the Doctor (just you wait 'til the next one, Doc!). Despite some rocky moments, Davison remains a charming presence, a breathless rabbit in the headlights. When Adric reminds him that Romana's gone, I adore the way Davison delivers: "Did she leave a note?", and although easily missed, there's a brief moment where the Doctor mock-punches Adric's chest, just like the Fourth Doctor used to do. I love that little character moment. Maybe it was accidental, maybe Davison and Waterhouse worked that out themselves (I suspect the former), but either way, it works wonders for me. It's actually quite touching.

Meanwhile, Nyssa and Tegan are being ciphers in the control room. Nyssa's spouting on about mean-free path trackers and referential difference as if she's just a conduit through which Christopher H Bidmead's brain can speak. This is the girl whose stepmother, father and entire planetary system were destroyed very recently by one man, the Master. By rights, Nyssa should be an emotional wreck, a vengeful angel of death hellbent on bringing down the Master by any means necessary. But in reality, she just floats about the TARDIS, her eyes as empty as the Zero Room, namechecking instrument panels and telling Tegan things she cannot possibly know. Like, how can Nyssa possibly know what the Zero Room is? She says it's most probably a neutral environment for the Doctor to recuperate in, but she cannot know that. I actually think the neutral environment is Nyssa's characterisation.

Why is nobody questioning the Doctor's regeneration? Inexplicably, they even know that it's called regeneration. Tegan of all people should be demanding answers, but instead she acts like this is now a normal way of life for her, that all these alien worlds, time machines and malevolent intergalactic psychopaths are just what happens on a Tuesday. I expect better of Tegan Jovanka. I certainly don't expect her to start quoting her father's cod-philosophy about the power of the word "if", and spouting ridiculous dialogue like: "How do we find the index file? Of course, if we had an index file, we could look it up in the index file, under 'index file'. What am I saying? I'm talking nonsense." Yes Tegan, yes you are, but it's not your fault. You're written by Christopher H Bidmead this week.

And if that's not bad enough, this leads Nyssa to identify Tegan's gobbledygook as "recursion". What's recursion, Nyssa? Well, recursion is "when procedures fold back on themselves... Recursion's a powerful mathematical concept." Well, it would be, because Doctor Who's written by Christopher H Bidmead this week. It's also a less than subtle way of inserting the idea of recursion into the story, not long before the viewer will have a need to understand the concept. Oh, I really do despair...

Of course, some of this awfulness is saved by Janet Fielding's spirited performance, but some of that ground is definitely lost by Sarah Sutton's vapid, colourless attempt at acting. I know this is blasphemy for many fans, but I really do not rate Sutton as an actress at all. She delivers most of her lines as if she's under anaesthetic, her eyes as empty as her delivery. I'll probably get hate mail for this, but that's my opinion. Maybe this marathon will change my mind (I do hope so), but I've always thought this, right from the early days of my fandom, so I'm not expecting any monumental changes to my opinion.

I like how the TARDIS is seen as truly labyrinthine in this episode. For the first time we really get to see and understand that this time and space ship is infinite, that its dimensions go on forever. It's an entire universe packed inside a police telephone box. And you're not really a fan of Doctor Who if you don't love a good roundel, and this story has roundels in spades. Bidmead, for all his faults, was always fascinated by the concept of the TARDIS, and played with it in all three of his TV stories (in Logopolis it was TARDISes inside TARDISes, here it's presented as an infinite, almost living thing, and in Frontios he breaks it apart).

In this maze of corridors, the Doctor happens across a full-length mirror, an Edwardian cricketer's outfit, a recorder, and a pair of gumboots, just sitting there waiting (not sure what the relevance of the boots is, I'm just glad he doesn't adopt them as part of his costume!). And that's the problem with the Fifth Doctor's new look: it's a costume, no longer just clothes. Peter Davison may well look striking, dashing and handsome in this get-up, but he also looks ridiculous in almost any situation he might find himself in. I mean, he's dressed as if he's about to play cricket all of the time. And the odd thing is that this Doctor doesn't express a particular liking for cricket at this point, he just put the clothes on because they're there. "I suppose I'll get used to it in time," he tells himself, proving that he's not really a fan. The Fifth Doctor does not actively choose to dress as a cricketer because he loves cricket. They're just a bunch of clothes he finds in a corridor. OK, so he notices the bat needs a bit more linseed oil on it, but it's obviously an earlier version of him that's the cricket lover, not this one. There's even a whole room in the TARDIS dedicated to cricket, which he never once revisits.

The Fifth Doctor doesn't love cricket any more or less than his other selves, but for some reason he's saddled wearing a cricketer's outfit. If anything, the Fourth Doctor was the cricket fan, having referred to it in The Ribos Operation and The Horns of Nimon.

The hunt for the Zero Room finally comes to fruition when the Doctor finds what he thinks is carmine seepage on the TARDIS walls, but which is actually Tegan's melting lippy. The Zero Room is described as empty and pinkish-grey, which is an apt description for this episode.

Once inside, there's a wonderful moment where Peter Davison can draw upon the benefits of Castrovalva being filmed fourth, and becomes his Doctor instantly. As soon as he's over the threshold, he straightens, his hands go into his pockets and he is the Fifth Doctor, before your very eyes. "You must be Tegan," he charms, before snarking: "Works even better if you close the doors, Nyssa." That's great, how Davison manages to become his Doctor in an instant, a Doctor that is all charm and pleasantries on the surface, but has a snippy side to him too.

The Zero Room is basically a place the Doctor can chill out, meditate and reconnect with his inner self (or selves). It has a minimalist vibe, and smells of roses. "It's like Traken... used to be," says Nyssa, delivered by Sutton with her traditional lack of feeling. I mean, it's a pretty egregious line in the first place, but in Sutton's hands, it's even clunkier.

The Doctor goes all Buddhist, and asks his companions to aid him through this tricky transition. Tegan can coordinate, Nyssa can operate the TARDIS, and Adric, being the one who knows his former self the best, can help him heal the disconnection. The fact Adric's AWOL is kept from the Doctor, but it's an interesting idea to have the new Doctor feel adrift from his past, literally disconnected from his fourth self to the point where he's not sure he's going to pull through it. The science of regeneration is ripe for exploration, and it's typical that Bidmead should give it a go. As ever, Bidmead is full of good ideas, but struggles to weave them into convincing drama.

So where is Adric? We never see him abducted, but it seems the Master's got him prisoner in his TARDIS (this week the desktop theme is 'Evil Black Void'). Matthew Waterhouse is suspended like a starfish among a web of wires, a fly caught in amber, a twink hoist in the Master's own private sex dungeon. It's a very strange set-up, it must be said.

The episode limps to a climax with the revelation that the TARDIS is hurtling back to something called Event One aka the Big Bang. It seems the phrase "Event One" used in relation to the biggest bang in history is coined by Bidmead here in Castrovalva, but it's interesting to wonder where he got the idea from. Perhaps something technical or computery might have influenced him, say the pioneering Event One exhibition held by the newly-formed Computer Arts Society at the Royal College of Art in 1969?

As the TARDIS rushes towards the hydrogen in-rush that is the beginning of all life as we know it (programmed to do so by Adric when he was under the influence of the Master), we get a cliffhanger that's unintentionally hilarious. Anthony Ainley delivers the melodramatic: "Farewell, my friends! Farewell for ever!" and waves with theatrical over-emphasis, proving that it is possible to have fun in Christopher H Bidmead's version of Doctor Who.

Just not intentionally. 

First broadcast: January 4th, 1982

Steve's Scoreboard
The Good: The moment the Doctor steps into the Zero Room, and Peter Davison transforms instantly into "his Doctor".
The Bad: Christopher H Bidmead's emotionally naive writing.
Overall score for episode: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

NEXT TIME: Part Two...

My reviews of this story's other episodes: Part Two; Part Three; Part Four

Find out birth/death dates, career information, and facts and trivia about this story's cast and crew at the Doctor Who Cast & Crew site.

Castrovalva is available on BBC DVD as part of the New Beginnings box set. Find it on Amazon - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Doctor-Who-Beginnings-Logopolis-Castrovalva/dp/B000LE1HLQ/